


Family Is Never Finished

by teffy



Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: Don Primo, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Italian Mafia, M/M, Organized Crime, Whump, feral primo is the best primo, sex drugs and feelings, this fic is because i enjoy feral luca marinelli a lot, wikipedia is your friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25947481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teffy/pseuds/teffy
Summary: aka...I researched an Italian crime organization on wiki and now you will listen to my thoughts and feelings.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	Family Is Never Finished

Salvatore had promised Primo’s mother on her deathbed that he would look after him. It turned out he was a liar as well as a coward.

“You must listen to your father, Primo.” Was all he said, a firm hand on his shoulder as they laid flowers at her grave. “Family is important. Family is never finished.”

One by one his sisters married off. All of their husbands were farmers. What else? One married a baker. He liked that one the most. They were all timid men but good ones.

He couldn’t be a good one. 

Primo, the eldest son but the youngest of five, began to endure his father’s wrath and harsh words on his own. 

_Family is never finished._ Well, not until Primo said it was.

* * *

Primo at eight years old was quiet. By thirteen he looked _haunted_. His father gave him a knife on his sixteenth birthday and told him to use it like a man.

One night, well into his twenty-first year, he watched his father bleed out like a stuck pig. The knife in his hand hadn’t done the job, Primo wished it had, but it had been a well hidden gunman in the mountains. They had plenty of enemies. The floor of the cave was getting soaked in blood. There was no time. He would die here. 

Good.

He crouched down next to this old man clinging to life like he clung to the old way of things. “You are done, father. Your time is over. I am a man now.” He gave him a sad sort of smile. 

“Do not worry.”

* * *

That baker his sister married? He had a shop near the town center. Primo lived in the small flat above it and worked hard to earn the Don’s respect. He did what he had to do. He drove for his Uncle. He played soccer with Francesco. He stole and roughed up who his uncle said to rough up and steal from.

Primo was not stupid. He was hot headed at times, he had a temper, but he never made rash decisions. Primo’s outbursts were well known but his quiet rage was what they all truly feared. 

If Primo smiled, you knew your time was up.

* * *

Primo got into fights a lot. He didn’t win many, until he started fighting dirty. He would bite and scratch like a feral cat. He laughed maniacally while getting pummeled until those punching him would back away in confusion. Then he would lunge at them with that look in his eye, still laughing. 

Primo was _crazy_.

Primo took things too far.

Primo would knock your teeth loose if you looked at him wrong. 

* * *

When Primo was in Rome he always thought he looked like a boy from the country. He felt like people could tell he lived in a tiny flat above a tiny bakery in a tiny town. So he spent his money on clothes. On shoes. And he looked _good._ He knew he did and he liked the way people admired him. He stopped dressing like a goat herder and wore silk shirts and the leather jacket he stole from his oldest friend when it didn’t fit him anymore. He cut his hair so it would artfully fall across his face if he wanted it to. He grew a mustache to maybe look a bit like Sal Mineo. 

He ate in the back kitchens of restaurants in Rome because he had no more money after his shopping sprees. That’s how he met Bertolli. 

“Your smile and your pretty face. You can have all the food you want.” The owner had said.

He told his uncle about the restaurant not long after that. “It’s perfect, right? The old pervert will let us use his kitchens. Gabriele can bring the shipment in straight from the airport and he will come and go in his pilot’s jacket. No one will question a pilot.” 

He was promoted from a soldier to a _cammorista_ because of his idea. He had men under his command now. Imbeciles most of them. But they were loyal to him. 

Family was important. But loyalty even more so.

* * *

He poured Gabriele more wine. “Do you ever take that jacket off?”

Gabriele’s eyebrow raised up. “If I take it off, I’m staying.” He said lowly. They both kept each other’s gaze as they drained their glasses. 

Primo broke the eye contact first and pulled out a cigarette. “So you say you heard Berto talking about the Getty boy? You’re sure?” That just earned him a look. “Okay, okay.” He held his hands up. “If Berto has him, he is in over his head. We will take advantage of that.” 

They drank the rest of the wine. Primo came up with a plan. Gabriele took his jacket off.

* * *

Angelo was too soft on their kidnapped victim. Angelo was too soft about everything. Primo wasn’t quite sure when he had become a leader of apathetic and incompetent men. 

This kidnapping had tested him in more ways than one. 

When he pointed the rifle at Angelo and Paul he did so with every intention on firing it at one of them. 

Unfortunately, Angelo wasn’t the one worth two million. 

* * *

He put the pillow over his Uncle’s face to mask the sound of the gunshot and so he wouldn’t get blood all over. That’s what he told himself anyway. 

He knew deep down that he did it so he wouldn’t have to see.

He did it so he wouldn’t have the image of his Uncle’s dead face in his mind like the image he always had of his father’s. 

* * *

The first thing he did after making sure Leonardo knew where he stood was to call a meeting.

Well, technically that was the second thing. First, he killed two more lieutenants. They were loyal to his uncle. He couldn’t stand for that. 

They also laughed at him when he was a boy. 

Other bosses started paying attention. They listened to his plans. He had the money. His family could do what they wanted. Others would go along with what he said or he would take them to war. 

And he did. 

He drew the attention of _La Santa,_ the secret society that was always whispered about and feared by his uncles. 

Mommo Piromalli called for him by name and Primo wore his best suit and brought a box of _susumelle_ with dried fruit from the bakery. Mommo was an old man but not small minded like the members of his family. He treated Primo with respect and laughed at his off-color jokes. Primo did the same for him.

“I must admit I was not sorry to hear about your uncle.” Mommo had told him, lighting his cigar while they walked in his garden after dinner. “Things are changing. You can see that.” He stopped and put a hand on Primo’s shoulder. “Sometimes hard choices have to be made. Family is important. But...surviving? Ahh, that can be more so.”

Primo nodded and smiled. He had only ever tried to survive and so many people had pushed him down. Who was on top of the pile now?

* * *

_Don Primo_.

He was Don Primo. So different from that scared little boy Primo who would hide under the stairs when his father would come home. 

No. No he was not scared anymore. 

He had money, but that was a by-product. What he really had was _power_. People listened to him. They did what he said. 

There were people that were afraid of him. Not just because he could hurt them physically. People were afraid of him because of what he could take away.

* * *

Primo kept his car. He liked his car. He could have bought another one but why should he do that? Francesco started to drive him when he learned how and Primo kept him close, much to the disappointment of the boy’s father. But he didn’t say anything. No one could question the Don. 

“You are a smart boy.” Primo told Francesco. “You should stay smart. I want you to study. Business. Law. You pick and I will pay. I need someone smart.” He looked out the window of the car, watching the mountains give way into the city. “I need someone strong and also smart. Like you.” He turned to look back at him, catching his eye in the rear view mirror. He tugged off his sunglasses. “You know what needs to be done.”

He always had dark circles under his eyes these days.

* * *

His new house was on the coast. He did not miss the mountain air one bit. He drank coffee looking out over his port. He took lovers on his balcony and threw parties on his patio. He drank too much and smoked too much but maybe stopped doing so much coke. 

Francesco protected him. The boy was not a boy anymore. As soon as he was old enough and finished his schooling he told Leonardo to go grow his olives. Primo would have no sons. Francesco would be his heir. 

Primo would do more than survive. 

He would _endure_.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> First things first, watch Trust on FX. Secondly, I became obsessed with this character because of the amazing acting of Luca Marinelli and I am not sorry. He is compelling and insane in the best way. And thirdly, this would not be possible without the amazing people that I lovingly refer to as the 'Primodonnas'. They helped me with character development and headcanons so much and they inspired me to write this. 
> 
> Also...go read about the 'Ndrangheta, the Italian crime syndicate based in the region of Calabria. There really was a secret society within the organization called La Santa and Mommo Piromalli was a real person and one of the main leaders of the time. 
> 
> Also also...Gabriele is what we have lovingly named the character from the show that is seen wearing a pilot's jacket. He didn't have a name in the show (despite my IMDB searching) so we named him and created a whole history for him and Primo. He is referenced here because I love him.


End file.
